Family Blood
by Dawnster
Summary: In which a member of the Scoobies dies, the others join up with the X-Men to defeat the new Big Bad, and Dawn continues to kick ass. Warning: Character deaths.
1. Chapter 1

Buffy belongs to Joss Whedon, and the X-Men belongs to Marvel.

* * *

A/N: This is a sequal to my story, Family Ties, but the first doesn't have to be read to understand this. Frankly, I'm not of the opinion that the first is all that good, so you really don't have to bother.

* * *

Dawn blocked a blow from her cousin, inching backwards to where Rogue could protect her back. Wolverine circled around her, cutting her off from her partner.

"Emerald!" Rogue shouted, accent stronger from the stress, "C'mon!"

"I'm trying!" She faked a blow at his head and slammed it into his gut when he went to block. Cyclops folded over, but kicked out at her knees as he fell, following her down to kneel at her throat.

"You know what to do." He said, small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah, I do." She grabbed him, flipping them over. As she grinned, triumphant, he flipped them back, putting his weight on her wrists. "I yield. Bastard." Dawn grumbled.

Across the room, Logan had extracted his own yield from Rogue.

"Are we ever gonna be able to beat ya?" Rogue grumbled.

Logan looked at his lover. "I hope not."

"The day you can take me down, Dawn, I'll resign command." Scott agreed, then seemed to notice the heated look Logan was giving him. "Logan… I have class in ten."

Logan growled something unintelligible and dragged Scott down for a kiss.

Dawn rolled her eyes, and she and Rogue left. Those two acted like they'd gotten together a month ago, not close to ten years. They were always so careful to avoid the kids seeing them together, though they all knew, so she supposed they deserved a place where they could be obvious. But did it have to be around her? It just made her wish for her boyfriend.

Blah.

Rogue nudged her. "Bobby, again?"

"Is it that obvious?" She flicked sweat-soaked, short brown strands off her face.

"Ya get this look on your face. Ice cream after my classes are done?"

"Oh, yeah."

Indigo sighed, staring out the window. Generally she _hated_ English class, though because Ms. Rogue was a good teacher, she merely disliked it. To her, the forest fire in _Lord of the Flies_ was just that; a forest fire. It didn't symbolize the boys' civilization dying, or their humanity, or anything but a bunch of flaming wood. Ms. Rogue was pretty good about stuff like that.

Ms. Rogue's soft southern accent continued on, and while Indigo's best friend, Lucy, was staring in rapt attention, Indigo Lee's mind continued to wander. Ms. Rogue had been in her mother's class here, and apparently they'd been good friends. She was wearing an outfit from the _Rougish_ line - a whole line that Jubilee, Indigo's mom, had designed and put into production just for her—a sheer, high necked green top with a tight, silky tank top underneath and matching gloves. Ms. Rogue never had managed to control her mutation.

A bunch of other kids were wearing one of _Jubilation!_'s designs. Hers were often more mutation friendly than other designers, being a mutant herself.

Finally, _finally,_ the bell rang. Indigo nearly flew out the door, then waited impatiently for Lucy to join her. The ash-blonde did, eventually, though she'd lingered to talk to her favorite teacher.

"Lucy, lunch is going to get cold!"

"I'm coming, Indi. Calm down."

They walked together to lunch, passing Mr. Summers and Mr. Logan on their way there. The two men were walking much closer than any heterosexual friends had a right to be; did they really think they were fooling anyone? Besides, they totally shared a room.

Indigo giggled when she thought they were out of earshot. Ahead, Scott rolled his eyes behind his glasses. His hearing was a lot better than his kids thought; remnant of years without sight. "They're sooo cute."

"I heard Mr. Summers had a fiancée, once."

"Yeah, Mom told me. Jean Black, or Grey, or something. She was the nurse here, I think."

"What happened?"

"I dunno. She didn't tell me that; you know my Mom doesn't talk about the Institute much."

The girls continued on, chatting about classes and things more interesting than the dead fiancée of their headmaster.

At lunch, the two sat together, watching the head table. Apparently, the teachers used to sit with the students, but as the amount of kids grew, it just hadn't seemed reasonable. They had to watch what was going on.

Mr. Summers sat in the center, with Mr. Logan and Ms. Summers on his right and left. Ms. Rogue sat next to Ms. Summers, with Ms. Pryde and Mr. Rasputin beyond her. The last two had gotten married two years ago at the school, but the woman had kept her name to keep the confusion down. She'd said that two teachers with the same name was enough. Ms. Munroe was on Mr. Logan's other side, her ornate wooden cane next to her.

Ms. Pryde and Mr. Rasputin were chatting, and sitting close together, barely a space between them.

The door opened, and a short blonde man in an expensive suit walked in. The hall quieted; no one at the school took well to strangers.

But this was apparently no stranger, as Ms. Summers fairly flew into his arms, squealing in girlish delight.

"Bobby!" She lowered her voice, but the sound still carried in the silent hall. "You came!"

"Hey." He walked to the teachers' table with his arm around her.

"Bobby Drake." Mr. Summers stood up, shook the younger man's hand.

'Bobby' inclined his head in a respectful nod. "Mr. Summers."

"Iceman." Indigo whispered. "Mom told me about him. Apparently he dated Ms. Rogue, once."

"Looks like he's dating Ms. Summers now." By the way the tall woman was hanging on her companion's arm, she could believe it.

The teachers made room for the visitor between Ms. Summers and Ms. Rogue, and all the younger generation of teachers bent their heads towards him.

Rogue sighed, watching Dawn and Bobby staring dreamily into each others' eyes. She'd been almost positive she'd gotten over not being able to have the type of relationship Kitty, or Scott had, but watching her ex starting to have it with her best friend? Kind of dredging up the old bitterness. She fiddled with the edges of her gloves.

Across the table, Scott glanced at her and discreetly poked Logan.

"Rogue thinkin' 'bout her gloves again?" Logan asked quietly.

"She's dwelling. It's seeing Dawnie and Bobby, I think." Scott replied, just as softly.

Rogue looked up, and saw Scott rubbing tiredly under his glasses. Logan leaned over and massaged at the base of his lover's neck. Scott shook him off. She could almost hear him scolding about PDAs; she'd heard the lecture enough times.

Scott cornered her after lunch. "Rogue. Got some time?"

"Sure."

They wandered out into one of Ororo's gardens, sitting in a bench purposely placed to be unseen from the mansion.

Scott reached out, placing a hand on one of her silky gloves. She appreciated the gesture, knowing just a little of how uncomfortable physical affection was for him. "These bothering you again?" He asked.

Though most of the others spoke to Piotr, Scott was the one she talked to when she had a problem she couldn't discuss with Dawn. He just listened, and rarely judged.

"I guess." She shrugged apathetically.

"Why?" Rogue stared in disbelief. Why did it bother her she couldn't have any physical contact for the rest of her life? "Why today, specifically?" He clarified. She was usually okay, but sometimes the hatred of her mutation just crept up on her and poisoned everything.

She would have danced around the problem, but long experience had taught her that Scott could, and would, outwait her. "Dawn." She admitted. "An' Bobby. I was wonderin', if it wasn't for my mutation, could I have that with him?"

"You can't know." Scott drew back. "For the longest time, I thought Jean killed herself." He held up a hand to cut off her inevitable denial. "I wondered if I'd fought with her less, listened to her more, let her in… whatever it was that made her want to leave, if I could have fixed it."

"But you two seemed so…" Rogue grasped for the word.

"Perfect? Happy?" Scott suggested with a rueful smile. "You were a child, Rogue, and we worked hard to appear that way. That's not to say we didn't love each other. As Logan so frequently tells me, doubting that is bullshit. Don't dwell on what can't be. You had something good with Bobby, you know. You were happy together, and it didn't work out. Try not to poison the memories."

"Thanks, Scott."

These little chats, while irritating at the time, did help.

"Anytime." He watched her go through red shades.


	2. Chapter 2

Dawn was pretty satisfied with her life right now. She had a steady boyfriend-ish-person, albeit one she didn't see all that often, a loving family, though one mostly not related by blood, and a fulfilling job, even if it did often end up in life-threatening danger.

She should have known hellmouth-style luck would follow her, even if it had been over fifteen years since she'd lived there.

Faith shifted uncomfortably, pressing a hand to her side. Slayer healing could only do so much, and, looking over her shoulder, she could see none of their little group was uninjured. It had taken too long for her to track Dawn down in the first place; they had no time. She raised one bloody hand to press the button.

They all just had to hope Dawn was still, at least partially, one of them.

"Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters, this is Piotr Rasputin." A man's voice, low and heavily accented, spoke through the intercom.

"Dawn Summers." Faith rasped. "Please. Tell her... tell her it's the Scoobies."

There was a slight pause. "I will get her."

It seemed like hours before the door opened. The first person out was certainly not Dawn, but a short man with muttonchops and coarse brown hair.

The second was a tall man with red glasses, and the third was Dawn. She'd cut her hair at some point in the last fifteen years and replaced the baby fat with lean muscle and sinew.

"Dawnie." Xander stepped forwards, and the short man blocked him.

"Logan." Dawn snapped, "Back off. Can't you see they're injured?" She looked them over; a bloody Xander supported by Faith, clutching her side, and an even paler than usual Spike carrying an unconscious Willow.

The man with glasses spoke. "Get them inside, Emerald, and you can heal them up. But don't let them wander, and don't leave them unattended."

"Got it. I know the procedures, Scott."

She led them inside at a brisk walk, Scott and be Logan bringing up the rear. When they reached the infirmary, Dawn set the humans on their own beds and sat Spike in a chair in the corner. "Logan, get me Indigo."

"On it." He left.

The medic surveyed the group. All Spike needed was blood to heal him up, but the others weren't in such good condition. Faith had a large gash running down her side, Willow's arm was broken in three places and Xander was bleeding out from hundreds of little cuts, though luckily only a few of the lacerations were deep.

"Scott, start inserting IV's. Type Faith and Xander; they might need blood transfusions."

Start with Xander, then. Dawn moved briskly to his side, talking quietly and soothingly while Scott inserted the lines she needed. "Hey, Xand." He stared up at her with pain-glazed eyes; he had lost much too much blood for her comfort. "You've got a few cuts, so once the painkillers kick in I'll sew those right up for you, okay? We'll just tape up the ones we can, for now." She put bandages on the less serious ones, waited for the man to go unconscious, and set the newly-arrived Indigo to sewing.

Scott was a fair hand at field medicine, and he'd picked up enough from Jean and Dawn to be useful, but with his vision as impaired as it was it was difficult for her to trust him with the more delicate tasks. One missed stitch and the cuts would seriously scar, if they healed at all. He understood.

Scott continued to make rounds around the infirmary, doing what he could. He helped Dawn set Willow's arm while Indigo, Dawn's apprentice, sewed up Xander. Faith's side was next.

Faith refused general anesthesia, preferring a topical and to watch what was going on. Dawn obviously knew what she was doing, conversing gently with her patients while steady hands did exactly what she directed them to. The older girl had only met Dawn a few times, back in high school, and then she'd spoken to her on the phone, once or twice. Still, she recognized the steel in the Summers girl's eyes, though the background was blue instead of the familiar green.

Dawn set Scott to sedating Xander and Willow to keep the two unconscious, whule she dashe to the other room to grab a pack of blood while he was distracted. She poured it into the first mug she found, only remembering at the last minute to check there was nothing growing in the cup. Indigo gave her an odd look when she caught her mentor putting it in the microwave, and Dawn was practically bouncing from foot to foot while she waited for it to heat. After the longest thirty seconds of her life, she opened the door before it could beep and carried the mug over to the vampire.

Spike reached up with a pale, shaky hand. "Thanks." His pale eyes locked onto hers, and there seemed to be a question there that she had no idea how she was supposed to answer.

"Of course." She made herself look away and nod at Scott; finally, everything that could be done was.

"Okay." Scott unconsciously straightened, face going hard and blank. "Who's in charge, here?"

Faith raised a lazy hand. "That'd be me."

"We need to talk. Logan?"

The shorter man took up a station next to Faith's bed; she had absolutely no illusions about why he was there, or why Scott had waited until she was half-asleep and in pain to question her. It was exactly what she would have done, faced with a possibly hostile guest.

"'Bout what?" Faith asked, faking a casual smile.

"What happened to your team?"

"It's kinda a long story, dude."

"Fine." She tried in vain to read his eyes behind red shades. Damn, that was annoying. "Let's start with something easier. Why is there a vampire in my infirmary?"

Spike looked up and gulped. There was dead silence for a moment, finally broken by Faith's shaky, "Dude, you're crazy."

"What do you know about vampires?" Dawn asked defiantly. In all her time here, she had never revealed the secrets of Sunnydale and the Scoobies to her mutant family. That part of her life had seemed so separate, like one couldn't be in the same world as the other.

Scott got up, circling her bed. Faith tensed whenever he was out of sight, and with the irritatingly painful gash in her side constricting her movement, that was a lot. "No pulse. No respiration." He grabbed the mug from Spike's hands and looked inside. "Drinks blood. Sounding normal to you? No, what I want to know is why a Slayer is working with that."

Spike and Faith exchanged a long, wordless look. Was there even a way to refute him? Neither could see one.

Scott raised a brow, knowing it showed about the rim of his glasses. "Four years of the streets. We all knew about vampires. And the Slayer was the bedtime story we told each other so we could sleep at night. One of the girls pretended to be her, to scare them off, you know? It worked for about a week, until they checked." He shrugged, noting dispassionately the look of shock the others were favoring him with. "Then most of us died. The real Slayer saved me from a nasty bloodsucker, though. Beautiful black woman. Kiki, or something."

Faith stared at him. "Nikki. Nikki Wood."

"I thought it was all a starvation-induced hallucination for while, until Xavier confirmed it for me. Telepath," He explained for the non-mutants, then suddenly snapped out of his remembrances.

"He's got a soul." Faith said, voice bored. Scott gave her a look that spoke quite clearly to what he thought of that notion. "Not kidding."

"I'm on your side, mate." Spike assured.

"Cyclops." The use of his code name made his head snap around. His cousin's serious eyes caught his behind the quartz; she was one of the few that had mastered the trick. "He is."

"Of course, Emerald." That was all he needed; he trusted her. "Now, what happened to your group?"

Suddenly, Dawn realized who was missing, and something clicked. Something in the way they'd all been silent. How Spike hadn't made a quip or remark; the Scoobies tended to only be silent in grief.

"Where's Buffy?

"Dawn." Faith started, not sure how to continue.

Dawn continued to speak, in fierce denial.

"She wasn't on this mission with you, right? She's back at Headquarters? I'll just call her, tell her you're here. She'll want to know that you're all right, well mostly, anyway."

Faith looked helplessly around, silently begging Spike for help, meeting Logan's knowledge full, pained eyes.

Spike spoke, hesitant and shaky "Little bit, she was with us."

Her mouth shaped a silent 'no'

"I'm sorry." Faith said, closing her eyes and breathing deep. "I'm so, so sorry, Dawn. Buffy's gone."

Indigo was cleaning up, trying to block out the conversation about vampires, of all things, when she heard Ms. Summers start to babble. "She wasn't on this mission with you, right? She's back at headquarters? I'll just call her, tell her you're here. She'll want to know that you're all right, well mostly, anyway." The woman's voice was desperate, trying to convince herself of something she knew wasn't true.

Hating herself just a little bit, but unable to resist, Indigo moved to a better vantage point. Mr. Logan had moved to put an arm around Mr. Summers' waist, and the taller man was slumped.

Mr. Summers looked _old_ in a way he never had. Mr. Logan gently reached up, supporting him

A pale, bleach blonde man whispered something in a British accent. Indigo couldn't hear what he'd said, but Ms. Summers stopped dead.

The dark-haired woman on the bed closed her eyes and took a breath. She and the bleach-blonde man were obviously fighting tears. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Dawn." Ms. Summers covered her mouth, eyes overflowing. "Buffy's gone."

Then Ms. Summers _screamed_, a high, keening sound of utter loss. She folded at the knees, sinking to the ground, tearing at her hair and sobbing. The pale man reached out to her, but she slammed a hand against his bedframe, pushing him away, then whirled around and embedded her glowing fist in the wall.

A moment later she wrenched her fist out and began screaming, throwing a ball of green fire to shatter a window. Then she was weeping, collapsing next to her cousin. Mr. Summers had sunk to the ground, Mr. Logan's arms around him, his glasses discarded next to him and his hands over his face. He shook with silent sobs, stifling the harsh gasps that tried to escape. He was almost silent in his tearing grief, while Ms. Summers screamed and sobbed, pounding on the floor.

Mr. Logan looked up, and his eyes met Indigo's, flaring with fury. This was none of her business, they said, and they were right. With one last glance at the two Summers holding each other close, Mr. Logan's arms wrapped around them, she fled.

The dark-haired woman and the blonde man just watched, their own tears running down pale faces.


	3. Chapter 3

Faith only realized the infirmary they were staying was next to the X-Men locker room—and it was one big room, no separate rooms for the genders—when the team rushed in, opening lockers in a rush and just stripping.

The slayers did that, in the middle of a crisis, but their watchers had separate, gender specific, rooms. The X-Men just changed in the same room, and it wasn't like you could wear underclothes in outfits like that. They didn't even bother closing the door, seemingly forgetting that the Scoobies were in the infirmary.

Faith couldn't help but admire the huge guy—Peter, she thought he was called—though she knew he was married, and was pretty sure neither would be amenable to a threesome. Logan… but no, he was serious with Scott, and the chances of her getting with that were pretty nil. Rogue was gorgeous, but she had that whole deadly-skin thing going on. Damn. Well, celibacy seemed the new trend with the Scoobies. Not that she was happy with that; no beer that she could find, no sex, nothing. She wasn't healed enough to fight. What was she supposed to do with this clawing, tearing _thing_ inside her, without any way to exorcise it?

She stared at the room the entire time they were gone, then stared when they came back and stared when they left again, scattering to who-cares-where.

Spike slammed the last cabinet door shut, groaning, and flopped into a chair next to Faith. "Isn't there any beer in this place?" He asked Kitty, just entering.

"It's a school."

"Is that a no?"

She put her hands on her tiny hips. "That's a no."

"Bloody hell." Kitty rolled her eyes, crossed to a cabinet, and tossed each of them a can.

The big Russian guy walked in, and Spike could smell their hormones rocketing. What, were they twelve? "Are you coming back to bed, Katya?" The man asked his wife.

"Bye." Kitty waved, following him out, a wicked smile on her lips.

"I hate this place." Spike groused, staring at the can in his hands. "No beer. Old blood. All of 'em shagging like bloody bunnies. And what the hell is this diet crap?"

"Tell me about it."

After a few minutes of them staring, disillusioned, at their cans of diet coke, Logan swaggered in, stopped and sniffed the air. His face twisted in disgust. "Kitty and Piotr." He said lowly, somehow making the names seem like swear words.

"You and Scott aren't any better." Faith pointed out.

"Nah." He agreed. "But I like how he smells."

Spike changed the subject. "Got any beer?"

"Sure." Logan left, and came back a moment later with two bottles of beer; he deftly twisted off the tops and set them on the table.

"Secret stash." Faith smiled. "Nice."

"For when Scott's out; he hates the stuff." Logan explained. "I never drink it 'round him."

"He hates beer?" Faith asked skeptically.

"Any alcohol." He clarified. "Used to drink it after he went to sleep, but he'd get nasty nightmares, and I couldn't go near him smelling of it. I gave it up."

"Why?"

Logan stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. "Known one too many mean drunks, he said. The case's in the teacher's lounge, if you want more, but don't go walkin' 'round the halls drunk. Lot of the kids feel the same way Scott does 'bout it."

"Got it." Faith tipped her bottle to him, taking a moment to appreciate Logan's ass as he bent to grab a glass of water.

Spike couldn't help remembering how much Buffy hadn't liked beer; when he'd asked why she'd muttered something about a caveman and he'd let it drop. He smiled and it ached.

He just watched them talk, not joining in. What was the point?

The next day, Dawn checked up on Willow and Xander. The mutant's professional mask had slammed down, leaving her with steady hands and a low, soothing voice. Only the bags under her red-rimmed eyes gave any hint of her grief.

"Looks like you're healing up nicely, Xander." She said, replacing the bandage on one of the deeper cuts. "No sign of infection, and we'll be able get those stitches out in a few days." She turned to Willow. "Pain meds holding up for you?" The redhead nodded. "Good."

Xander stopped her when she went to leave. "Dawnie, wait."

"What?" Dawn paused with her hand on the doorknob, but she didn't turn.

"Do you..." He swallowed, rubbing roughly at his eye. "Can we talk?"

"About what?

He took a long moment. "What do you think?"

"Why would I talk to you?" It wasn't cruel, the way she said it. Just an honest question, as if she really couldn't comprehend why she'd want to share her grief with him.

And thinking about it, he didn't have an answer. Somehow, he'd drifted from her idol to just one of hundreds of Christmas cards. They'd all drifted away from Dawn, at some point, unable to make the transition from 'kid sister' to 'equal'. "I guess I don't know."

She nodded, once, and left.

Lucy sighed, collecting her books and ushering the newer children out of the room. They'd been in the middle of math class when Mr. Logan had come in and spoken quietly into Mr. Summers' ear. Their headmaster had calmly turned, erased the board, and said, "I apologize for the inconvenient timing, but there's a minor emergency in Boston we need to take care of. Do the odd questions on pages 330 and 331, and I'll see you tomorrow." Then he quickly followed Mr. Logan out the door.

Indigo, beside her, glared at the door. She, unlike Lucy, actually liked math. That and art, which, as their next class, would also probably be cancelled by the emergency.

"Ugh." Indigo moaned.

"Yep." Lucy agreed, turning to where a new girl that had resisted their gentle shoves was staring, terrified, at the door. "It's okay, sweetheart. This happens a lot, and everyone's always fine." As soon as the comforted girl left, leaving them alone in the empty classroom, Indigo huffed out an incredulous laugh.

"You know, except for when they're not."

"What was I supposed to say? Everyone's always fine, except when they're not, in which case they're probably dead?"

Indigo shrugged. "Suppose not."

"Exactly. C'mon, we have to head to the cafe."


	4. Chapter 4

Scott had sat down to talk with Dawn, and satisfied with her control, allowed her on the next mission.

"Civvies over uniform, short-long distance pairs, alert the other teams when you find the mutant. It's unknown if it's a manifestation accident or a purposeful terrorization, so be careful." He ordered. "Plane leaves in five."

The X-Men had established long ago that couples were always separated when they split into smaller groups . Cyclops and Rogue looked together, while Wolverine and Shadowcat did, and Colossus searched with Emerald.

They were all connected via comms, something they'd only added after they'd lost Xavier. Telepathy had kept them more connected than any other group out there, and losing that advantage—and the man behind it—had seriously hurt them.

Rogue looked up at Cyclops.

"So…" She said, linking her arm in his. He stiffened, but relaxed after a moment. They were just another family using the streets.

"What?"

"How are ya?"

He glanced at her, expression impenetrable behind red shades. The two were given a little more space than any other group; with the glasses and the opera-style gloves on an overcast and hot day, people suspected their mutations and avoided them. That, or purposefully stayed near them, as if to advertise how accepting they were.

Neither of the X-Men could decide which was worse.

"Fine."

"Bull."

This time, his response was colder. "Look, Rogue, what do you want me to say? Grief's not new to me, and we're on a mission."

She took the rebuke in good humor. "Yeah, an' we're both lookin' 'round. But they ain't here, so we can chat. You need ta talk to someone, an' we both know you ain't."

"I talk to Logan."

"Someone who ain't your lover. Sometimes distance is useful, ya know?"

There was a long pause, and then he began to speak. "You know what it's like not to have anyone, Rogue. To depend solely on yourself, to know no one else will help you, not even if you're bleeding out in front of them." She did; she'd spent time on the streets, too, though her mutation had protected her from the men he'd had no protection from. "But Buffy always helped, you know? She'd help anyone. I just… I don't have that much family left. Just Dawnie now."

"An' you've got us. I know it ain't the same, Scott, but we're here for ya. Alla us. An' Logan would walk through hell for ya."

Scott smiled softly. "I know he would. It's the only thing keeping me going, some days."

Rogue stopped pushing, satisfied her work was done. The whole therapist thing the two had going didn't always confront _her_ issues. He had plenty of his own for them to deal with.

Piotr looked sideways at Dawn, wondering if asking her to talk would be beneficial to Dawn's healing process or not. He knew that Rogue and Logan were pushing Scott, but as much as the older man had known Buffy, she'd been Dawn's life for most of her childhood. And Piotr's experience as a guidance councilor/fumbling physiatrist didn't prepare him for this level of grief.

Turned out, though, that he didn't have to prompt her at all. Her guilt just exploded out of her.

"What if I hadn't left?" Piotr just raised a brow. "Could I have done something?"

"You cannot know the paths your life could have taken, Dawn."

"I know, but maybe she'd be alive today. If I'd been there, maybe things would have been different, you know? Maybe I could have saved her. Or kept Willow conscious so she could have saved her. Or... something. Something to keep her alive, so she wouldn't be dead. You know? "

Piotr shook his head. "From what you have said in the past, your sister would not have trained you. She certainly would not have allowed you to go on the more dangerous missions that she went on."

"Yeah, but…"

"Dawn, do not torture yourself with what might have been. It does nothing but bring you pain."

"I know. But maybe... I could have helped. What I'd stayed in contact with her more? Maybe she could have called us for help."

"Dawn, _it is not your fault._" Before the woman could reply, Kitty's voice broke in over the comms.

"Cyclops." Scott paused in his conversation, listening to Shadowcat's report. Piotr and Dawn did the same, waiting for orders. "I think we found our mutant."

"Location?" After she told him, he ordered, "Don't confront him; wait for backup."

"We're closing in five, Cyke." Logan said.

"We'll be there in three." He beckoned Rogue and broke into a jog. "Ditch the civvies when we arrive."

"Got it."

"Understood."

Dawn thanked whoever the hell was up there that she hadn't been injured in the battle. If she had, the group would be in far worse shape than they already were, and that would probably involve the death of several of their members.

The mutant that they had gone to rescue apparently hadn't needed rescuing at all, as he was willing bait from the Friends of Humanity. He also had the uniquely destructive mutation of draining the power from all nearby not-quite-humans; mutants, vampires, slayers, witches, whatever. They'd known he drained supernatural creatures, they just hadn't connected the dots and thought he just might be able to do the same to mutants.

It was his fault Buffy was dead- with her Slayer abilities, it wouldn't have been nearly as easy as the bullet to the heart that had killed her- and Scott wanted to rip his heart out with his bare hands.

If they knew which of them men it had been, that is.

When the X-Men had rushed in, ready to rescue, things had gone to shit. Rogue had been the least affected by the loss of her mutation, as she didn't use it when fighting humans, but the others hadn't been so lucky.

Without his mutant strength, the metal on Logan's bones had dragged him down, making the slightest movement impossible. Kitty's entire fighting style was dependant on going incorporeal when threatened, and she was bullet-ridden without it. Piotr was used to being bullet-proof; when he wasn't, he took stupid risks. Dawn had been plain lucky that she hadn't been hit, but the fact that her mutation was mostly long-distance gave her an edge in close-range, powerless fighting. When Scott's mutation had disappeared, the thick red quartz of his visor had made vision impossible. His eyes were usually more similar to a raptor's than humans', and the shift had completely disoriented him.

They were pretty much all screwed. Rogue pulled Kitty from the fighting when she took two bullets to the leg, and carried her to the jet. Piotr screamed when his wife was hit, rushing the Friends of Humanity as if he was still bulletproof.

When one grazed his scalp, and another imbedded itself in his shoulder, it proved he wasn't. He tried to carry Logan off the field, collapsing when the weight of the metal on Logan's bones was more than his human strength could take. Scott supported his lover's other side, pulling off the visor to try and make his sight easier to handle. It didn't help as much as he could have wished.

It took them too long to retreat. Rogue piloted the plane, and Dawn took the copilot's seat. Though Scott and Rogue were the best at flying, all the X-Men knew how. Scott sat in the back, visor back on in case his mutation returned, essentially blind again and holding Logan's hand. The feral lay in back, wheezing from the weight on metal-coated ribs on his lungs. The graze on his side burned in a constant pain he'd never felt before; long term pain wasn't something he was used to.


	5. Chapter 5

Dawn started with the bullets still imbedded in Kitty, then moved onto Piotr's. Indigo sewed up the gash on Scott's shoulder that none of them had noticed in the heat of the battle, and then the man admitted he'd gotten a concussion at some point.

"Scott…" Dawn moaned. As checking his pupils was out of the question for obvious reasons, she had to take his word for it.

"I know what a concussion feels like." He assured one. "I'm in no danger of dying, but it's rather unpleasant."

"Logan, you know the drill." Dawn instructed her cousin's lover. "Wake him up every two hours." Scott's medical file essentially screamed to be extra careful with head injuries; he already had enough brain damage.

As their mutations had returned once they left the radius of the power-draining mutant, Logan quickly healed. Rogue stole some power from Logan, as she usually did when injured. Dawn sat heavily when it was all done. The rest of the injuries, a collection of bruises and scrapes they'd all picked up, could only be healed by time

Indigo and Lucy sat in the rec room, watching television. A few classes had been cancelled for a while, as their teachers were seriously injured. Only English, Self-Defense, and Social Studies—taught by Ms. Munroe- were still on properly, though Ms. Summers had taken over a portion Ms. Pryde's Science curriculum. Art was out of the question, and Mr. Summers was only going to start in a couple days, once he'd slept off his concussion, and he had to switch to righting lefty for a while. He said he'd had his right arm broken enough times to know how, luckily.

She wasn't sure what was so lucky about it.

Scott sat with Faith in his office, her feet casually up on the chair next to her.

He started the conversation off. "How would your Council feel about working together to eliminate this threat?"

"Man, we pretty much are the Council." Faith replied.

Scott nodded, glancing at Logan, and took her word for it. She had no reason to lie to him, and he had no way of checking out what she'd said. "Then how do you feel about it?"

"I'm gonna need to talk to my people."

"Of course."

She nodded and left the room. "Well, that went over well." Scott sighed.

"She didn't say no."

"She didn't say yes. We'll see what happens."

Logan looked over at his lover, taking in the bowed head, tense shoulders. "We've got time. They ain't gonna come here, and the team needs to heal."

"Logan…"

"You need to relax."

Scott gave him that crooked half-smile he just loved. "And I suppose you're going to help me with that?"

"Oh, yeah."

Faith gathered the newly-healed Scoobies into the room that Scott had given her. "Cyke wants us to join up to defeat the baddie. Thoughts?"

She froze, realizing that without Buffy, this was going to be her job. Talking to the group. Getting opinions; actually listening to them, making informed decisions. Decisions that people could lie and die by.

Shit.

Shit!

The rest of the gang was oblivious to her turmoil, actually thinking about her question.

"It could be helpful, right?" Willow said. "I mean, getting some extra help. And this guy's threatening them too."

"Don't see why not." Spike said.

"I think it makes sense." Xander added his two cents. "From a logistical standpoint, it makes our chances of winning higher. Double the firepower."

"Makes double the fireworks!" Willow smiled, pushing hard for the funny.

"I like explosions." Faith quipped, playing along. "So, yeah?"

They looked at each other. "Yeah." They agreed.

She went to Scott with their decision immediately after.

"We're in."

He nodded sharply, leader mask dropping down. "Good. We'll start training together as soon as possible, then?"

"Sure."

Scott leaned forwards. "We'll need to organize the leadership."

"What 'bout it?"

"Who will lead the combined team?"

Faith paused, millions of conflicting thoughts running through her head. After a moment, she shrugged. "Look, Scott. I never led, you know? Never was my job. You seem to know what you're doing; by my guest to the whole damn thing."

"Thank you. Dawn will be my second?"

"Whatever you say. We gonna call in reinforcements?"

"Anyone you can get. I'll do the same."

They shook hands briefly, and took their leave.

Scott and Willow spent the night on the phone, negotiating with old friends and occasionally enemies to get anyone they could to help them beat one of the worst foes they'd faced. Scott came to bed exhausted, shoved Logan over to his side of the bed-the older man was secretly an octopus, he was convinced, as no one could take up that much space with only four limbs—and fell swiftly to sleep. Willow climbed into her bed, slipping quietly into the world of dreams.


	6. Chapter 6

Lucy didn't recognize the brown-haired woman in the jeans and brown tank that walked in the next day, but Willow obviously did, by the blush that crept up her ears.

"Kennedy." She greeted the new arrival. "Hey. I'm glad you could come. I mean, we kinda need your help, so thanks for coming up, you know, to help, and"

Kennedy cut her off with a long kiss, then broke it off with a smirk and a, "For old time's sake."

Lucy was pretty sure she heard a muttered, "Darn pierced tongue," from Willow as the two left.

Well. That was certainly interesting.

Bobby had to pop home to grab his custom-fitted uniform. Dawn was waiting for him in entryway when he arrived.

The next was a large, bald black man. Faith greeted him, slapping the man's back.

"Hey, Gunn. Thanks for comin' in."

"Heard you needed some help." Gunn replied. "Boss-man woulda been useless, so… here I are. Ready to kick some mutant ass."

The next man seems to be about Ms. Pryde's age, with the same slight build and long brown hair. He just walked in, whistling, hands stuck deep into jean pockets. "Connor." Faith greeted him.

"Faith." Something seemed to pass between them, but they said nothing before walking into the bowels of the school.

Indigo gaped and dropped her books. "Mom?"

"Hey, hon." Jubilee strode into the school, normal yellow leather jacket over one shoulder and a suitcase in her other hand. Her X-Men uniform was in the bottom of that one.

"What... why… what?" Indigo's English was pretty incomprehensible at that point.

"Hey, Ms. Lee." Lucy greeted her friend's mom.

"Hey, Lucy. Nice to see you too, Indi. Mr. Summers—guess I should call him Scott now, weird, that—called me. Said he needed some help with stuff, so here I am. Gonna give me a hug?" She spread her arms and waited for her daughter to jump into them. She did.

The last to arrive was an elderly gentleman in a brown suit and glasses.

"G-Man!" Xander greeted him, bouncing in place slightly like a puppy.

The man glared. "Xander…"

"Hey, Giles." Willow said.

"And hello to both of you. Now, my rooms are…?"

Xander took his bags and Willow walked beside him as they guided him to where he'd be staying.

It should have taken a lot longer for the X-men to heal than they did, but most had advanced healing capacities and Willow tended to help them along with a discreet spell every now and then.

Cyclops gathered them all in one of the conference rooms once they'd all healed up.

"To begin, thank you to all of you who came to us to fight." The cursory thanks over with, he moved to the logistics. "Some of you are merely here to help us train without powers; Spike, Logan, you can't be at the final battle. I'm not totally comfortable with you being there, Willow."

The redhead thought for a moment. "What if I trained with you and then we'll see where I am?"

"I can live with that. Is there any way for the… supernaturally enhanced people here to have their abilities taken away for training?"

This time, it was Giles that replied. "There's a serum the old council used on their Slayers as a test that removed their powers. We don't use it, but the recipe could probably be found."

"Thank you. X-Men, just avoid using your powers. We'll figure out who works well with each other as we train, and break into smaller groups. Don't let yourself burn out, guys. Balance training with others things; teachers, see if there's a new adult here that cam take some of your classes." Scott ordered, looked around, nodded, and left.

All the children knew something big was up when unknown adults with serious faces started trickling into the school and staying.

When they started helping teach, Indigo knew things were serious. Each normal teacher had at least one helper that took over their easier classes.

The one-eyed man—Mr. Harris—had practically taken over Mr. Summers and Mr. Logan's shop class. He didn't know much about planes, so he showed them carpentry tricks and basic engine maintenance to the younger kids. Mr. Drake had started teaching all the mutant powers except the hardest to control. Willow—who all the kids already knew, since she'd been hanging in the back of the classrooms already— taught the younger children math and science.

Kennedy had surprised them all by taking over some music classes. She was no genius at it, but she'd had classical training, and her singing voice was plain, but accurate and pleasant.

Indigo's mom—and that was weird for her—taught some units of the art classes on sketching and design. As she made her living off those skills, the kids listened.

Mr. Logan introduced his helpers in his customary brusque fashion. "This is Faith Lehane."

"Don't bother with the miss crap." She ordered them.

"Connor Angel." The younger man said. "I don't really care what you call me."

"Spike." The last man introduced himself.

All three had the same combination of super strength, agility, and speed. Even the best students got their asses kicked in a few seconds, until Logan drew his assistants aside and told them to go easy. And none of them had realized how easy Mr. Logan went on them until they saw him spar with Faith; the woman still won, but at the end she'd laughed and thanked him for the challenge.

Mr. Giles, the cultured older man Indigo had seen arrive, helped Ms. Rogue out with English. Half the kids were swooning over his accent, but Indigo privately though Ms. Rogue was better.


	7. Chapter 7

The artist began with putting her in a white tanktop and pale jeans, looked, and shook his head. "Off." He ordered. It took him a while, but he finally found something he was happy with.

She was dressed in a silky white dress that was tight to the waist, and slit at the thighs until it ended at the ankles. Then he fiddled with her hair, settling on lightly curling it and leaving it down, contrasting the almost virginal attire with dark red lipstick and black eyeliner. He put her in white leather heeled boots that went up to mid-shin.

Spike was in tight black pants and a matte black, flowing shirt, hair lightly slicked back. She almost laughed when she saw that he was wearing foundation like her, but his death glare deterred her. His shoes were normal black dress shoes, but he wore a ruby earring in one ear; Faith assumed it was a clip on.

Piotr bustled around, hanging a dark red backdrop that matched her lipstick and his earring perfectly. "Now," He looked at them expectantly once his camera was set the way he wanted. "Go."

"Go? Whaddya want?"

He gave her the type of look he'd give a particularly dim pupil. "Fight. Normal speed, please. Switch who is dominating the battle."

Faith shrugged, and went for it. The outfit required her to move in a more feminine way that she was used to, but she still managed to get in some killing blows. So did he; the two moved in a way that suggested a dance more than combat.

"Thank you." Piotr said, then asked plaintively, "Would you do one more shoot?"

"Got anything better to do, Slayer?" Spike asked.

"Nope."

"Thank you!"

He rushed them out of their clothes, then entered Faith's changing room. "I apologize," He said, averting his eyes, "But this dress requires some assistance." He helped her into it, then brought her back to the makeup room. This time, her makeup was practically nonexistent, but her hair was in an elaborate updo, curls following the curve of her neck and dripping down her back.

She would have gasped when she saw Spike, if she did shit like that. He looked perfectly natural in his outfit, an eighteenth century nobleman's party attire in all black; and if rumors of his human life were true, it made sense. His hair was still bleach blonde, but it hung loosely down, curtaining his face.

Spike's eyes did widen when he saw her. She looked like the women from his time; though he'd hated his life as a human, those times had shaped him. She wore a dress that was a little simpler, a little tighter than those of the time, but it was still almost perfect, all dark red satin and white lace. He bowed over Faith's hand, instinctually.

"Spike." Piotr's voice interrupted. "I assume you know how to dance?"

"I do."

He gently led Faith in a simple waltz. Piotr's camera flashed, but he barely noticed. Soon, Faith picked up the rhythm of the dance, and he added in twirls and dips, speeding them up until her skirts blurred. All they needed was more couples dancing with them, and he'd think he'd been transported back in time.

"I will show you the finished product soon." Piotr promised once they were done. "Thank you."

The two left the studio close together.

"Wanna spar?" Faith offered after a moment.

"Sure."

Unfortunately, breaks like that didn't come often enough for those fighting.

Scott trained blind for days at a time, preparing for when his vision would betray him. He didn't tell Logan, though he was certain the older mutant knew, that he continued to practice with his knife, letting old skills return to him. It was like riding a bike, he supposed. Some skills could never be lost, as much as he might want them to be.

Spike and Logan—the two that couldn't be at the final battle—took over training the others, pushing them far beyond their limits.

"No shiftin', Pete." Logan yelled, turning to face the larger man.

"My apologies." He ducked a blow Scott sent at him, returning one the older man easily evaded. Scott was lithe and fast, and though Piotr was quick for his size, there was no comparison.

The problem with training Scott was that there was no way for him to simulate the effect the loss of his mutation would have on his sight. His eyes were normally like a bird of prey's; they were attracted to motion. He'd spent almost thirty years with his eyes the way they were, and the switch was disorienting. Connor and the Slayers had the serum Giles had gotten from the council, and though they hated the effects, it showed them what the battle would be like.

Connor was the worst. For the other two, they'd at least spent some time without supernatural powers; Connor had been born and raised with them. In one set of memories, at least, but that was the set he tended to rely on, it being the truth and all.

He gritted his teeth as Gunn took him down once again. "Listen, Connor." He was instructed. "You ain't got the strength to take me down; use your speed. I know you got it." Following that, he at least stayed alive a little bit longer. "Try some of those fancy dodges you used to use." He managed to stalemate, and "Where'd that agility go, man?" He won. He still had the knowledge and the training; he just had to adjust it for the lowered strength.

Kitty smiled at her lover, sitting and intently staring at his half-finished painting. She walked forwards, draping herself over his shoulders.

"Hey babe."

"Hello, Katya."

Piotr stood up, covered his painting, and paced. Kitty sat down, and watched her lover anxiously. He was usually such a collected man; anything that got him this frazzled had to be important.

"I do not want you going." He said abruptly, turning and staring at her.

"And I don't want you to go."

"Katya, please. I am serious."

"So am I." He sent her a pleading glance, but she was resolved. "Piotr, you're as vulnerable as I am, out there. We both signed up for this knowing the risks."

"I know that, Katya. But this is something larger than we have ever faced."

"It is." Her face was implacable.

His was sad. "I just do not want to lose you."

"And I don't want to lose you. We'd both better be careful, okay?"

Piotr tried one last time to convince his wife to stay away from the battle. "I cannot talk you out of it?"

"Not a chance."

"Then," He clasped her hands in his, "We shall be careful, and enjoy what time we have together."

The serious tone of the evening was gone. "I'm good with enjoying."

His answering grin was wicked as he picked her up and deposited her on the bed. "As am I."


	8. Chapter 8

Finally, they were as ready as they were going to be. Logan drew Scott down for a lingering kiss; Piotr and Kitty and Dawn and Bobby did the same. The children catcalled and whistled, but for once the couples ignored them. Screw the rules when there was imminent death.

Logan, Spike, Willow and Giles stayed behind, waiting anxiously for the results of the fight. Giles was too old to fight, while Logan and Spike would be completely useless and Willow just didn't have enough physical skills for Scott to be comfortable with her in the field.

Dawn watched the X-Men preparing for take-off, sitting in the back. She adjusted her seat-belt one more time, saw Scott and Rogue fiddling with the controls of the jet. Flying was one thing she didn't like, not the way they did. At least she wasn't scared of the thing like Logan was; he'd flat out refused to learn.

The Scoobies sat slightly separated from the X-Men, though they wore the same uniform. Faith and Kennedy loved them, and had made noises about making all their Watchers wear tight black leather, but getting Xander into one had been a battle. An amusing battle, for those watching.

They'd prevailed, though, and now he wore an outfit that matched his eye patch.

Kitty and Willow had worked their computer magic to find where the Friends of Humanity were located; they were pretty sure the brainwashed mutant would be there. Oddly enough, no one had suggested leaving any of the Friends of Humanity alive. The only reason they weren't blowing the place up unceremoniously was that the Friends of Humanity tended to have mutants captive.

Scott turned to them once the plane was well on its way. "The mission is simple. Get in, kill the mutant, and get out. Collateral damage isn't an issue." The words were simple, but they sent a chill down Dawn's spine. Scott had never said that before, and though they were scum, they were still humans.

Then she remembered they were the reason Buffy had died, and she hardened. Let the bastards die screaming; the world would be a better place.

Scott continued his instructions. "Try to stay with another X-man—or Council member—at all times. Don't let yourself get separated from the group; they have numbers on their side. Good luck."

He turned back to his controls as his audience talked quietly with their loved ones. They were all perfectly aware of the risks this mission had.

Dawn ducked a Friend of Humanity's wild swing, knocking him out with one blow to the temple. For all her hard thoughts about their deaths, it didn't make it any easier to kill a boy that looked like he should be in high school. Besides, Scott said that knocking the mutant out _should_ negate his powers; then they'd know who he was so they could kill him.

She could see Rogue dispatching Friends of Humanity with cold efficiency out of the corner of her eye; a dark haired young man fell with a crushed windpipe. She shuddered; Dawn hoped she'd never have that kind of hardness to her. Connor was back to back with Kitty, both using their agility to dodge between opponents before they returned to each other. Connor turned, giving her a wild grin before snapping a woman's neck.

She blocked a blow, catching the gun Kennedy threw her and shooting the man's thigh. He fell, screaming.

Faith was laughing as she flipped over a man's head, falling to break his spine and hitting his friend on the way down. Piotr was watching her back, grabbing a man and breaking him practically in half as the guy went to knife Faith from behind. Gunn was beside them, wielding his trusty axe; he was less concerned about the men's lives.

Jubilee and Bobby were fighting side by side, talking quietly in between waves of men.

Dawn frowned; she'd lost sight of her cousin. She prayed he was fine.

Then things started going worse. She could hear Kitty yelling with Piotr took a bullet to the side. Out of the corner of her eye, Dawn saw Kennedy's head explode. She had no time for grief, though, as three men pressed in on her. Faith took one out from behind, but a bullet lodged itself in her shoulder

She noticed one boy not really fighting, just standing on the edge watching. He couldn't have been more than ten, and now that she thought about it, she could remember the same boy at the scene of their last defeat.

Jubilee screamed, and Dawn hoped desperately that it wasn't her dying sound. When it cut off abruptly, she lost that bit of hope. Poor Indigo, she thought, and then was too busy to think, spinning and kicking to clear her way.

Connor was down, knocked out, with Gunn and Rogue standing over him. Then Rogue was hit, and she went down hard. Dawn lost sight of the trio as her arm was grabbed and _twisted_. She could hear the pop as it came out of its socket, and she screamed, arm going limp. Dawn took the man out with a fling kick, and kept fighting, one armed.

Then there was one of those curious lulls in the battle that Buffy had always filled with quips, and she looked up. That little boy was still there, watching. Scott was behind him, knife in hand, staring at the child with horror etched on his face.

Then he set his face, raised his arm—and plunged the knife deep into the boy's back. There was no time for the child even to scream, his blood pouring down Scott's arms in rivers. He started to crumple, but Scott caught him, gently lowering him to the ground. Then Cyclops stood, that terrible sadness still on his face.

Dawn could feel her mutation rushing back, and she grinned, even through the haze of green that blanketed her vision, turning the red blood a sickly brown.

From there, the battle was easy. A joke, even.

Still, when they climbed back into the jet, they could see they'd been hit hard. Kennedy and Jubilee were gone, lying dead on the base's floor. Connor had gotten back up, but he still had a severe concussion. Dawn's arm was dislocated; Piotr was shot in the side, Faith in the shoulder, and Rogue in the leg. Xander had a bad cut running down his arm, and Kitty had been knifed in the side, Scott in the face, and Bobby in the leg. Gunn's wrist and arm were broken.

Scott flew the plane in silence, without a copilot, after he helped Dawn put her shoulder in place so she could tend the wounded. They were all losing too much blood for her liking.

They managed to get back to the mansion without losing anyone else, though, and Dawn took the time to throw her arm into a sling before calling Indigo down. Then the two girls and Scott tended the fighters as best they could.

At last, the only thing they could do was wait. Logan, grimfaced, practically carried Scott to their room, and Giles, Spike, and Willow descended on her. She shooed them away, just wanting to sleep.

It was finally over. The men that had killed Buffy were dead, and their threat eliminated.

Funny. She didn't feel any better.


	9. Chapter 9

Indigo knew, even before she opened the door, why she'd been called to Mr. Summers' office. She'd brought Lucy along with her for moral support.

Then she walked in, saw his blank face.

"No." She said, quite calmly.

"Indigo."

"No."

He pressed his lips into a thin line, hands clasped loosely on the desk in front of him. "Indigo, I'm sorry." His voice was as even as always.

"No! She's fine!"

"I'm so sorry." He continued talking, but she couldn't hear it through the buzzing in her ears. Mom.

Mom.

"It's your fault!" Indigo screamed. Mr. Summers looked just as blank as ever, and for a long moment she hated him, hated everything about the stupid man in front of her, everything he represented. "It's all your fault, you bastard! You and your stupid team got my mom killed! You're the reason she's dead. _You_ called her in, _you_ ordered her into battle, _you_ got her killed!"

Indigo threw the words like darts, and even if she couldn't, Lucy could see Mr. Summers flinch as each landed.

"Indigo." Lucy said softly. "Indigo, that's enough."

Her friend screamed wordlessly, launching herself across the room at her teacher. Lucy went to drag her off, but Mr. Summers stopped her with a wordless shake of his head.

Indigo sobbed, screamed, pounded her fists on his chest. Mr. Summers just held her, head bowed, and Lucy just watched, tears streaming down her face. There was nothing they could say.

Jubilation Lee was gone; dead, by what means no one knew. And no amount of 'I'm sorry' or 'She died well' would bring her back.

"Faith, Spike." Piotr stopped them as they were getting ready to leave, handing them two wrapped rectangles.

Faith ripped off the paper of the first.

It was from the first photoshoot she and Spike had done. Three photos in a vertical line, all three framed in silver. In the first, she had a booted foot against Spike's throat, white dress slit to reveal a long, muscled leg. Then he was flipping over her head, black clothes tight to his body. In the third, they were locked in battle, him throwing a punch as she swept his legs out from underneath him. They both looked fierce, dangerous.

"Nice." She said, unwrapping the second.

Then she stopped, staring.

It was beautiful.

She and Spike danced in the forefront, arms around each other. Piotr had captured them in motion, as Spike dipped her down.

In the background, he'd added the sweeping columns, arches, golden lights of the time. Other couples danced behind them, and as she looked closer, she could recognize them all.

Piotr himself held Kitty, twirling her around. Dawn and Bobby danced, staring deep into each others' eyes. In the back, two men danced, candlelight reflecting red off one's face. Hidden almost behind them were two translucent figures, one bald man and a redheaded, tall woman. Willow and Xander were laughing as they danced, and Connor was bowing over Rogue's hand. Giles and Kennedy stood in back with some sort of drinks in their hands, and Gunn was lifting Jubilee high.

The whole thing was done in oils, framed in ornate, dark wood.

"It's beautiful." She said, eyes riveted. Then she handed it back. "But keep it for me, okay? I don't have a place for it."

Piotr nodded. "Of course."

As soon as they were all healed, the Scoobies left, scattering in groups of two or three, returning to wherever they came from. Jubilee's tiny yellow car stayed next to Kennedy's red bike, gathering dust in the corner of the mansion's garage.

Faith stopped, when her bike was pulling out, and gave Scott a solemn nod that he returned. Then she left as fast as she could, Spike on her tail. They were so out of there.


End file.
